


Rough Day

by nightskythoughts



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 05:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15357387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightskythoughts/pseuds/nightskythoughts
Summary: It was a rough day. That’s the only reason for him to be the person behind her door 20 minutes before midnight.





	Rough Day

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the characters even if sometimes I really wish I did.  
> Any mistakes are my own. I hope you like it.

It was a rough day. That’s the only reason for him to be the person behind her door 20 minutes before midnight.

His eyes are filled with a mixture of remorse and relief at the same time.

“Sir?” she questions as soon as the shock of his appearance wore off.

She watches his eyes move to her shoulder and pause, almost as if he can see the bandage through the worn flannel shirt she’s wearing.

“I,” he stops, his voice sounds like he hasn’t said a single word after their debriefing over 7 hours ago. He might not have. She imagines him sitting in his living room, beer in hand resting on his knee. His eyes fixed on the chess game Daniel and he have been playing for the past 3 team nights but unseeing any of the pieces.

His eyes meet hers and she sees his eyes gain focus, like he knows exactly why he’s here.

After clearing his throat and another quick glance at her shoulder, he asks “Can I come in?”

“Of course, Sir.”

He nods and walks into her home. 

* * *

 

They’ve been sitting beside each other on her sofa in silence for five full minutes now. 

She’s aware that it’s been five minutes because of the clock hanging on the wall to her left, just passed his face. His jaw is clenched and has been since she first looked at the clock. 

Finally, he clears his throat and his eyes flicker up to hers.

“Carter,” he starts, “How’s the shoulder?”

She can’t help but feel like that’s not what he was planning on saying. It seems like he’s been choosing and changing his words more and more often lately. She feels a pang in her chest as she realizes that she can’t remember the last time their non-work-related conversations held any actual meaning.

Her eyes must show her inner turmoil because his eyebrows furrow for a second before he catches himself. She swallows hard.

“It’s ok. Janet says the blast must’ve been just a graze.”

She reaches for one of the glasses of water on the table in front of them. By the time she places it back on the table it's half empty. His remains untouched since she sat it in front of him.

She hasn’t been good with the silences that have recently taken up space in their conversations. Neither wants to say too much, or too little. It’s like they’re incapable of acting friendly, now that they both know that their relationship is far from it.

When she places her glass back on the table, she turns her body towards him on the couch.

His eyes are burning into her shoulder and it’s starting to feel hot. Whether it’s a phantom memory of the blast or from the heat of his gaze, she can’t be sure.

“Sir?”

His eyes stay fixed on their target.

“That ‘graze’ could’ve killed you if it was a few inches in.” His voice is low and even, but there’s a slight hitch in the middle of the sentence, betraying his emotions.

Fully turning towards him, she instinctively moves to take his hand. Realizing her hands motive, she pauses it in mid-air. Glancing up at him, his eyes have finally moved. They’re now focused on her hand hovering between them.

She looks down, passed her traitorous hand, and sees that his is trembling.

“Sir? You’re shak-“  

Her response is cut short when his hand suddenly grasps her frozen one. The heat she felt earlier spreads instantly from her shoulder, across her chest, down her arm and ignites in her hand enclosed within his.

“Sam.” Her name is torn from his throat and her heart can’t help but break at the mix of uncertainty, exhaustion, and fear in his voice.

She doesn’t know if she moved to him or if he pulled her in with their linked hands. It doesn’t matter, the end result is the same. She’s now on her knees, straddling her CO.

Instinctively, she shakes her hand free of his and wraps her arms around his neck as he presses his face into her neck.

The scent that she could distinguish anywhere, even under a week’s worth of mud and sweat on a different world is surrounding her. She closes her eyes to immerse herself in it.

With her eyes closed, her other senses start to pick up less familiar things.

She feels his arms trembling as he holds her, almost too tightly against him. His hands are clutching at her shirt, one at her right shoulder and the other at her left hip. She absently thinks that she’s glad her left shoulder isn’t involved in his desperate embrace. She acknowledges something she’s always subconsciously know. He will always try to protect her, even in times like this when he’s barely holding himself together.

She feels his chest quickly rising and then slowly falling in an unsteady rhythm. It’s as if he still hasn’t caught his breath from the sprint to the gate and his scream of “MEDIC!” while six boots made contact with the metal on the other side.

She can’t help but think ‘why now?’ It’s not like this has been the worst she’s been injured on a mission. She didn’t even spend a single night in the infirmary. Sure, the mission was FUBAR from the beginning with them just barely escaping a Jaffa patrol that was hiding, awaiting their arrival. How did they know they were coming? Did they even know it was SG-1 coming through? Was it just a coincidence?

Her thoughts are interrupted by another sense.

“Carter…” he was mumbling into her neck. “You’re ok…Carter.”

She can’t help the shiver that runs through her body as she feels his lips move against her skin with every syllable. He presses his face in tighter and every word is now punctuated by his teeth grazing her neck.

The groan escapes without her acquiesce, and it stops him cold. His open mouth pressed against her neck, her shirt clenched in his hands.

She doesn’t know what to do. He’s gone completely still. The only movement she can feel is the breath from his open mouth hitting her skin.

He came here because he needed her. She doesn’t know what it was about this particular injury, this particular mission, this particular day, but he needed her. The man she loved but couldn’t have is breaking apart in her arms. She doesn’t know why but she knows that he won’t be alone. Not this time.

A calm comes over her as she realizes that _that_ is the most important thing to her right now. Everything that has kept them away from each other means nothing to her as she feels the distress in the still body under her.

Her arms tighten around his shoulders and with an emotional bravery she’s never felt before she lets him know that she’s done hiding.

“Jack, I love you.”

A sudden wet exhale hits her neck and his hands unclench and start to caress up and down her back. His open mouth presses against her neck and this time she is aware of the groan that’s trying to escape her mouth. When she feels his tongue taste her skin she doesn’t do a damn thing to stop it from breaking free.

His hands travel down her back, over her hips, and then up her sides until they frame her face as he pulls his head back.

Staring into his eyes, she knew she made the right decision in this moment. He needs her and there is nowhere else she’d rather be.

“Sam, I…” He cuts off his own words, crushing his lips into hers.

His hands hold her face to his as if he’s scared she going to pull away. She has no intention of moving even an inch.

Their tongues caress each other’s as her hands begin to roam over his chest. The sound of their kisses and harsh breathing fills the otherwise silent room.  

Wanting more, she moves her hands to the couch behind him and braces herself. Scooting closer she fully seats herself in his lap. She immediately feels unworthy of the power she holds over him, that he would be so hard for _her_.

With a groan, his head falls back against the couch and his hands dive for her hips, pulling her harder against him.

When their gazes meet she can still see the fear lurking, but it’s slowly being eclipsed by the lust which is beginning to cloud his eyes.

For a few minutes they just stared at each other as he guides her movements over him.

She’s surprised by how good it feels to just move against him. She suddenly realizes that she’s only a minute away from falling apart. But however good that would feel, she knows what would feel better.

She brings her lips to his, the softness of the kiss is in direct contrast to the needy, hard movements of their lower halves.

Pulling back and looking into his eyes she whispers, “Let’s go to bed.”

 

* * *

 


End file.
